So, Act One: you enter a simple cocktail bar off Las Palmas and order a Kentucky Ninja—it’s got
whiskey, lemon juice and lavender-infused honey. That would be plenty, honestly. But that’s just the
beginning.

At some point you’ll notice a brick-and-wood-paneled corridor. Guide your date down said corridor. It
leads to a rustic dining room anchored by a central bar, and around the edges are private booths, a
glass-encased wine closet and an old photo of a woman hugging a tiger. That’s Sadie, the owners’
grandmother. (The woman, not the tiger.)

For Act Two—dinner—you’ll proceed to the enormous enclosed patio, a stone-walled hideaway of trees and
communal tables, to settle in for a dry-aged prime sirloin. (It’s LA. You take your sirloin alfresco
whenever possible.)

And for Act Three: return to the bar for a couple of stools and some alcohol-enhanced dessert like
Sadie’s Float, which involves Campari and some bitters-flavored ice cream.